


i've got patches on the patches (on my old blue jeans)

by Cazio



Series: Concatenation [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Cazio, Divorced!AU, M/M, Stony - Freeform, Superfamily, Superhusbands, more sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazio/pseuds/Cazio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devastation came without precursor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got patches on the patches (on my old blue jeans)

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thank you to my lovely beta, and my bucky, shae. you helped me through this madness.
> 
>   
> _"And I got patches on the patches,_  
>  _On my old blue jeans,_  
>  _Well they used to be blue,_  
>  _When they used to be new,_  
>  _When they used to be clean."_  
>  \- Ain't No Fun, AC/DC
> 
>  
> 
> _[twelve years after]_  
> 

       

Devastation came without precursor. Even so, Steve should have seen it coming.

It happened on a Friday night in spring.  The air outside was warm, balmy, and scented with fresh rain. The dinner table was quiet save for the sound of their forks scraping against ceramic, but Steve didn’t think it was an uncomfortable silence. Peter sat beside him, sifting through his Calculus III homework while Steve looked over his AP Literature paper for grammar mistakes, misspellings, and to correct any off-tangent rambling that Peter and Tony both had a habit of going into.

_“The thing is, Jane Eyre only thinks she has a choice. She might have a lot of sass in her telling of events and come off as an independent woman, but she is still the one trapped in a house with her ‘beloved’ at the end of the novel instead of travelling the world like she originally wanted to. The authenticity to her love is wholeheartedly lacking…”_

Steve raised a brow, but didn’t comment. He’d read Jane Eyre in preparation for this paper the week before, and he certainly hadn’t seen her love as lacking. He wrote a little note in red pen to remind himself what his thoughts were later on when they talked about it, and then ticked off a few misplaced commas. Grammar wasn’t actually his strong suit, but he knew what proper sentences were supposed to look like just from the amount of books he’d read in his lifetime.

“Hey, Pops,” Peter said, phrasing it almost like the beginning of a question.

Steve kept reading, but raised his brows. “Mm.”

Quiet. The constricting kind, though Steve had no idea of the noose tightening around his neck.

“I want to live with Dad for the summer.”

 

* * *

  

Tony swore under his breath as oil started to stream like a bleeding wound from his hotrod. Thankfully, none of it landed on his face, though this car was doing plenty to piss him off already. He never even drove the thing, but that was because no matter what he did, it never seemed right. New engine, new brakes, new everything—it was still wrong. Tony tore it apart about once every year and replaced every fucking piece except for the body and not once had it ever looked right since he crashed his armor into it while on a bender. Fucking car.

“Hey Dad?” Peter asked distractedly.

“Hey what?” Tony replied, equally distracted.

“When you and Pops were married, did you ever have to tell him something bad?”

Tony paused his cranking at the connector for the oil pan, blinking for a moment. Questions about Steve usually only came up when Peter really just wanted to know how to bring something up with Mary Jane.

“What kind of bad?” he asked carefully, dropping his wrench in exchange for a screwdriver.

“Like, you knew it was gonna break his heart bad.”

“You know _he_ was the one that gave me the divorce papers, right?” Tony muttered around a screw in his mouth.

“Dad.”

Tony sighed, pulling the screw from his lips and placing it on a magnet stand with a variety of other bits of metal he’d collected so far on this little project.

He rolled out from beneath the car, uncaring that oil was still gushing from the crack in the oil pan he had created only moments ago. Peter problems came first, and clearly he was having an issue with something.

Tony wiped his brow with a towel and sat up from the creeper before giving his son a look. “Are you breaking up with Mary Jane?”

Peter blinked, his dark eyes flashing with momentary surprise. “Wha—no! No, Dad.”

Tony shrugged. Gwen Stacy had been making eyes at Peter lately, or at least that was what he’d seen when they both “accidentally” bumped into each other at the Oscorp announcement dinner last month. It surprise him if Peter had been tempted to stray. Steve loved Mary Jane, which was probably why Tony was leaning toward Peter finding someone else. Only internally, of course. He’d never say anything like that.

Peter clawed a hand through his hair, an action he’d definitely picked up from Steve.

Tony’s thumb instinctively rubbed against the underside of his ring finger, still somehow unused to the lack of a wedding band. His whole life he’d been single, and he gets married for six years and all the sudden he has habits he can’t kick.

Or maybe that was because he had an addiction problem. Ex-problem. And an ex-husband.

“Let’s see…” Tony quirked his lips, scraping his mind to try to remember a time when he had been the bearer of bad news for Steve. Twelve years ago was when they got divorced, but again, he hadn’t been the one to give those divorce papers.

“I don’t think I remember one.” He stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. He moved and picked up a stool on his way over to Peter, plopping it down beside his son and sitting down. He knocked Peter with his shoulder. “What’s up?”

The kid sitting beside him was his. That blew his mind on a daily basis.

Peter pretended to focus on his Starkpad, but then clicked it off. His reflection in the black screen was conflicted.

“I don’t want to live with Pops this summer.”

Tony’s throat tightened as though Peter had just said he didn’t want to live at the penthouse. His vision swam for a minute, and his heart clenched tight enough to expel the air from his lungs. Oh no. Oh Steve.

“With my internship at Oscorp,” Peter continued, “Every week I’m with him it’s going to take me an extra twenty minutes to get to work. And Harry and Mary Jane are close here, and I assume Harry and me will be working on a lot of stuff together…” Tony doubted it. Norman would have Peter working on the best of the projects. “So it’ll just be way easier to live here. And I don’t have a lab to work in at his house.”

“Peter…”

Peter nodded once to himself, as though he found a new sense of courage. “And we don’t do anything anyway. He just…he hovers. It’s constant. He won’t leave me alone. If it were up to him, we’d sit around and paint all day.”

“Peter,” Tony said, more stern this time.  “You don’t mean that.”

Peter gave him a look, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Yeah I do, Dad. Whenever I go over to Pops’ house, it’s like I get cut off from everyone else.”

Tony swallowed hard. He was going to have to make calls.  Lessen the damage of this blow somehow. Steve wouldn’t be able to take it. If any of the stuff Peter had just said came out in the inevitable argument Steve would put up…Tony had no idea what that would do.

“Peter, you need to think seriously about th—“

“I wouldn’t bring it up to you if I hadn’t thought it through,” Peter said.

Tony closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now he felt like he had to call and warn him. Was it bad that he wouldn’t? They weren’t married anymore, there was no rule on secret-keeping.

“Well,” Tony said, feeling like he was trying to breathe underwater. “You can’t beat around the bush with him. He hates that. You just have to spit it out. He’ll probably not say anything for a minute…”

 

* * *

  

The air was sucked right out of his throat. The words on the page in front of him went out of focus as Steve tried to process what he’d just been told. Peter didn’t want to live with him this summer. Steve had planned to take him to D.C. for a week to hang out with SHIELD scientists, so he could get a look into the field beyond Oscorp. He’d been trying so hard lately to rebuild what he’d once had with Peter as a child, but it seemed the older they got, the more Peter connected with Tony and disconnected with him.

“With my internship, it’s just easier,” Peter mumbled. “I already talked to Dad about it and he agreed.”

Tony knew about this? For how long? Steve wanted to ask, but refrained. He wouldn’t have wanted to hear this from Tony. There would probably have been a glimmer of pride in his voice

“Weekends,” Steve said almost desperately, looking up form Peter’s paper. His son wouldn’t meet his eye. “What about weekends?”

A pained crossed Peter’s face. “Harry said there’s always parties on the weekends. I have to be there if there are—it’s a networking thing, dad. You can’t just show up to work every day, it’s about networking.”

No Peter for three months. Tony would get to see him every day.

“I can make sure you get there on time every day, if it’s the travel,” Steve offered. “I can call in some favors and—“

“Pops, it’s not that.” Peter sighed, shaking his head. He looked exactly like Tony did when he was distressed. The last thing he wanted was for Peter to be distressed. “It’s just…it’s hassle if I live here, you know?”

_‘You’re a hassle’_ was all Steve heard.

His chest twisted up and started to wring his tear ducts, but he refused to cry in front of Peter. So he swallowed hard, putting his hands beneath the table to keep Peter from noticing how hard they were shaking.

“Is…Is this because of me?” Steve asked. He knew it was childish, but he had to know.

Peter didn’t answer right away and Steve had to close his eyes and clench his jaw to keep from breaking down right there.

“No, Pops, it’s not—“ Peter let out a huff. “You can come visit at the penthouse whenever you want. Dad said you could.”

Steve nodded once, knowing full well he would never set foot there again. He didn’t belong there. That was Peter and Tony’s place.

“Pops, please,” Peter said, but his voice was tinged with—was that annoyance? “I worked so hard for this internship—“

“I know you did, Pete, and I’m so proud—“

“And you just want to ignore that and have me go completely out of my way just so I can be here? What do we even do? We sit around and do nothing, that’s what. We do nothing.”

Each word was like a hot lash against Steve’s face. He stood up quickly, his chair scraping against the wood floor.

Peter was scowling at him. Scowling. “It’s true. We do literally nothing. Do you know how much better I’d be as a scientist if I just stayed home with Dad all the time?”

“I don’t—I don’t—“ Steve was paralyzed, unable to stop listening.

Peter had glassy eyes, he was upset, but he was like Tony. When he felt like he had gone too far, he compensated by making _sure_ he went too far.

“I wouldn’t be stuck in highschool right now. I’d be through college, like Dad. I’d be somebody.”

Steve’s personality flared back to life. “You’re sixteen. You have the rest of your life to be somebody. Tony agreed with me to keep you in school with kids your age—it wasn’t just my decision.”

“I’m sixteen! I can make my own decisions!”

Steve narrowed his eyes, finally able to look at his son. “Peter, calm down right now. We can discuss this—“

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Peter snapped.

“You’re my son too. I want to see you,” Steve argued.

“Well maybe I don’t want to see you!” Peter shouted.

The air went still as both of them stared at each other, Peter breathing hard and Steve just…staring.

“Go to your room,” Steve said quietly.

“No. I’m having Dad come pick me up.”

Steve was shaking, but he wasn’t sure if it was from sadness, anger, or shock. “What is going on, Peter?” he asked, the emotion leaking into his voice. “Where—What brought this on?”

“I worked so hard for this internship and all I’m asking for is three months without coming here and you don’t want to let me,” Peter said tartly. “You keep acting like I’ll grow out of this science thing or that I don’t really want it. Well newsflash, Pops: I like science and math. I love it. What I don’t like is sitting around this sad little apartment sketching things. I hate painting. I hate drawing things that aren’t blueprints. Every time I suggest we do something different, you just bring it right back to doing something you like to do!”

Peter sounded exactly like his father when he was yelling.

Steve couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears welled over his bottom lids and rolled hot down his cheeks. His chest started to burn with sheer devastation, humiliation, and shame. He’d become the father everyone thought Tony would be, he realized. He’d become the father who forced Peter to do things he didn’t want to do. But he’d sworn Peter enjoyed painting with him. They always had fun...but maybe it was just him being an idiot.

There wasn’t anything he could say to that, because as scorching as his words had been, Peter was right.

Steve’s breath came out in a shudder, like he was going to sneeze. Then he clamped his mouth shut, nodded once, and hurried from the dining room like a child, straight into his bedroom.

“Crying isn’t going to make me change my mind!” Peter called bitterly behind him, but his voice cracked.

Steve shut the door and brought a hand to his mouth to try to stifle his sobbing. He was a man. He was a grown man. He wasn’t supposed to cry. He ought to turn right around and discipline Peter for acting out so harshly and being so insulting. But Steve always had a weakness for his son, and he knew Peter’s words had to be true. How long all of that had been boiling, he had no idea.

Everyone said teenagers were a handful, but Peter had never been that way until just now.

Steve slumped to the ground and leaned against his bed, making a quick decision to grab his pillow before burying his face into it to just cry.

Peter would stay at Tony’s for the summer, then he would decide not to come back to the “sad little apartment.” He would go to court with Tony’s lawyers and change the custody agreement and Steve would let him do it without so much as a peep of resistance. He had no right to be Peter’s guardian, any claim he had would never hold up against Stark lawyers. Tony was Peter’s biological father. Tony would always get what he wanted.

And poor Peter. Steve had tried so hard to connect with him recently—he’d caught the quiet sighs that escaped Peter’s lips when they set out for some artistic venture. He’d thought it was just the teenager-y thing where they pretended to be annoyed by their parents. But he supposed Peter would never act that way with Tony.

Oh god. He’d ruined his relationship with his son. Peter was going to leave him.

He was about to lose everything. His entire life was about to walk out on him, hating him and cursing every memory they had ever shared. Loss shredded into his heart, cutting him down without hesitancy or celebration.

 

 

An hour later, Steve was sitting with his bottom lip between his teeth, staring out his window from where he sat on the edge of his bed.

A soft knock came to his bedroom door.

“Pops,” Peter said from the other side of the door, his voice barely above a whisper. “Papa, I’m sorry. Can I please come in?”

Steve was already walking toward the door. He opened it and lifted a hand to gently ruffle Peter’s hair. “It’s okay, Peter,” he said softly. “I should have known you felt that way.”

Peter stepped back, his brows pinned as he scanned Steve’s face, confused. “I…I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said—“

Steve stopped him with a weak smile and a shake of his head. “No, I’m glad you let it out. I didn’t realize that’s how I came across. If you love science and math like you father, than I’m all for it. I want to support you in whatever you do.”

Peter had the same eyes as he had when he was a toddler, big and round, still edged with those thick black lashes that were ripped straight off of Tony.  Peter had always been Tony’s son, not his. And himself and Peter…well, they had certainly tried. How strange it must have been for that little dark-haired kid who had once been so excited to make pancakes to figure out that his Papa was just a stranger who was good at playing house.

“You aren’t mad?” Peter asked quietly.

A spasm rippled through Steve’s features for a moment, as though he might laugh. “ ‘Course not. Is your dad on his way?”

Peter looked puzzled for a minute, then looked at the floor. “Yeah. Should be here any minute, actually. But I didn’t want to leave without saying sorry.”

A thin smile came to Steve’s lips. “Like I said, it’s okay.”

Peter’s arms looped around him for a hug, and it already felt different. But Steve hugged back, even patted Peter’s shoulder once or twice.

“I love you, Pops,” Peter said against his chest, his voice quivering. “And I’m really s-sorry for saying that to you because I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, Peter, it’s all right,” Steve soothed, hugging Peter a little tighter. “Just keep me updated, okay? Maybe we can grab lunch sometime during the summer and you can tell me everything that’s happening.”

“It’s not for another month, Dad,” Peter said, pulling away and brushing himself off in typical teenager fashion, quickly wiping his eyes. “I’ve still got two more times here with you before I go.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling a little too wide. Peter wouldn’t come back. He didn’t want to be here anymore. A sad little apartment was no place for a boy with a future as bright as Peter Stark-Rogers’.

A buzz sounded from Peter’s pocket and he dug out his phone. “Dad’s here,” he explained. He grabbed his backpack and things, glancing at Steve a few times like he might just shatter. Steve just kept his smile, his eyes dry and his hands steady.

Steve walked Peter to the door and gave his shoulder a little rub before Peter was gone, heading down to the Audi R8 waiting in the alleyway, Tony’s rock music blaring.

Tony waved.

Steve waved back.

Peter threw his bag in the trunk and hopped into the passenger seat before giving a wave of his own and a tiny smile.

Steve shut the door; the _thwump_ marked his stitching coming undone and his entire being collapsing all at once right there in the foyer.

 

* * *

  

As soon as Steve disappeared from the doorway, Tony turned off the car and his face turned serious. Something was very, very wrong here—he could smell it. The texts Peter had sent him did not match up with what he’d just witnessed.

“Peter, tell me what happened.”

Peter licked his lips and lifted his brows, giving a shrug. “I went in to apologize like you said, and he was really cool with it.” Tony narrowed his eyes, trying to coax out more. Peter gave. “I went in and said I was sorry and he said it was fine. I gave him a hug and he gave me a hug and I…I mean, y’know, I told him I loved him and stuff and then you came and I left and now I’m here.”

“You said he was crying, earlier,” Tony murmured. “Define crying.”

Peter frowned. “I didn’t really see, Dad. He just had tears in his eyes and he left.”

“Tell me what you said to him.”

Peter huffed. “Dad, it was our argument. It’s over and done with now and I think we both—“

“Oh no. You called me a night early to come pick you up. That means something bad happened and I need to know what it is,” Tony said. “Was he smiling just now when you talked to him?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“The whole entire time?”

“Yeah?” Peter cocked a brow.

Tony swallowed, glancing back up to the door. “Tell me what you said to him.”

“Dad—“

“Dammit, Peter, tell me what you said, right now,” Tony snapped. Everything seemed too quiet. “When you were yelling at him, what did you say?”

Peter swallowed, clearly uncomfortable. “I said…I said that we don’t ever do anything and that I’d be out of college right now, like you were, if I didn’t come over there. And then he asked why I was mad and I told him that he always tried to push art on me—and he totally does, Dad—and that I don’t like art. Oh, and I also told him I didn’t want to see him. But I was just mad. He knew that. He said it was okay.”

Tony looked back out the front of the car, taking a breath.

Peter let out a little snort, frustrated by Tony’s silence. “And it’s true, you know. He always brings everything back to what he wants to do.”

“Don’t,” Tony warned in a whisper. “Don’t.”

Peter crossed his arms, but then his shoulders slumped.

The engine ticked quietly.

A car door slammed somewhere far away.

“It was weird. He acted like I wasn’t coming back.”

Tony turned. “What?”

Peter kept his gaze out the window. “He said maybe we could get lunch sometime this summer and I could keep him updated.”

Tony’s heart jumped up his throat a little. “You told him you were coming back in a week, right?”

Peter nodded. “Yup. He just said ‘yeah’ and walked me to the door.”

“What’s the last thing he said?”

A long breath passed through Peter’s nose. “I don’t…” He blinked, looking at Tony. “He just said ‘yeah.’ That was the last thing he said.”

“Stay right here, and don’t move, whatever you hear. Don’t leave this fucking car, Peter.”

Tony was out of the car in a heartbeat, leaving Peter terrified but not daring to disobey.

 

* * *

  

Steve heard someone coming up the stairs and thought about fleeing to the bathroom, terrified of Peter finding him in such a mess. He should have waited for the damn car to leave. He should have waited. He should have—

The door flew open and Steve slapped a hand over his face to try and somehow hide himself from…Tony. No, no, no. No, no, no, _no_. Not Tony. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rile up some sort of anger through the wet wool of devastation weighing on his emotion. Tony wasn’t allowed in here. They’d discussed that. They’d fucking discussed that!

“You know he didn’t mean that,” Tony said, dropping to his knees in front of him. “You know he didn’t—“

“You won,” Steve croaked, a sob escaping his lips. “Now get out of my fucking apartment and get back to your fucking penthouse and raise him!”

“Steve…” Tony said softly, reaching out.

Steve slapped him away. “Don’t _touch_ me!”

“He was upset, Steve. Kids get angry sometimes and—“

“He hates me,” Steve hissed, his words punctuated by his wetting lips. “He hates me and my sad little apartment and it’s my fault he thinks he failing! It’s my fault Tony! Hu—Hey--get off! Get off! _Get off of me_!”

Steve had never actually screamed at Tony before. But he’d never ever been approached by someone while his heart was still in the process of cleaving in two. He clawed at Tony with all his might, but Tony held on tight, hugging him close. Gloating in his victory, rubbing all of the salt he possibly could into this fresh wound.

“He hates me and he hates art and he hates everything about this fucking place and _me_ and he wants you!” Steve cried. A low noise left his throat, one he’d never made before. It sounded like someone dying.

“I’ve always forced myself to be part of this family,” he sobbed into Tony’s shoulder. “I always thought I could be his dad too. I al-al-always thought he’d love me like you ‘cause we raised him together.”

“Shh, shh,” Tony hushed, and Steve could hear that he was crying too. That bastard.

“First he just leavess for the summer, then he leaves forever. He always liked you best. He always did. You were special. You’re his father and I’m the genetic—“ Steve’s windpipe crushed with a sob. “I wanted him to be like me so I could feel like I mattered. That’s all I wanted,” he croaked. “That’s all I wanted. It’s all I ever wanted.”

Steve turned his face into Tony’s chest, shaking so hard he could hear his breaths shivering. No more were the days when his little Pete would giggle at him and ask to play baseball at the park. Maybe even in those days, Peter had been itching for somewhere else. Someone else.

Tony. Father, the “cool dad,” the one who bought him everything he wanted and taught him whatever he wanted to know.

Steve. The man who showed up every other week with finger paint and pancakes and stole him away from home.

“You do this all to yourself,” Tony murmured with a sniff, rubbing Steve’s back. “He just wanted to come ho—to come to my place for the summer.”

The low noises of Steve’s despair reverberated against Tony’s chest.

“It’s just an internship, Steve. Just for the summer.”

“It’s not,” Steve blubbered. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“He was angry. He didn’t mean it. He’s like me, Steve. He says things he doesn’t—“

“When you were mad you said you’d get a divorce,” Steve said with a tremor in his voice.

“That was one time and—“

“This was one time,” Steve choked out, gripping tight to Tony’s shirt. This was probably the last time they’d ever see each other. He didn’t think he’d be invited to Peter’s graduation. Or marriage. Or birthday parties. Or anything. He would be the uncomfortable body in the backdrop that Peter shied away from.

“Steve, you’re torturing yourself,” Tony whispered in his hair. “You just torture yourself so much. Nobody hates you. Peter loves you.”

Long ago, it been Steve soothing Tony with almost the same words. But Tony had always been so much better at saving face.

“He doesn’t want to be around me,” Steve sniffled. “I’m some stranger—“

“No, Steve. Okay? No. You’re his dad. Just like me. You’re his dad.”

Steve just shook his head, too tired to start another argument.

“I shoulda known,” Steve whispered. “I lose everyone I ever care about.”

Tony hugged him a little tighter. “You know that’s not true. You haven’t lost anyone yet. You’ve still got me. You’ve got Terminator—and he was definitely supposed to be dead—and you’ve got Sam, the Avengers, and you got to say goodbye to Peggy in the best way. No dramatic plane crashes involved. And you still have Peter. Always.”

“Bucky still thinks something might be wrong with me. Sam doesn’t pick up the phone ‘cause he knows I’m only gonna call about you. The team feels sorry for me. ‘specially since I stopped going to things. We’re divorced. Peter’s only my son on an adoption paper that your lawyers almost had me removed from.” He had never belonged here. He had tried so hard to fit himself into this world and he had failed.

Tony cradled him closer, and Steve just allowed himself to go limp in his ex-husband’s arms. He’d get up tomorrow, take a shower, shave, move on with his life. Peter would leave and Steve would plod along, stuck in his pseudo-immortality with no family and friends that he’d drifted from thanks to a relationship he had thought would last.

“This is why I worry about you,” Tony murmured. “You’re all alone in this apartment when Peter’s not here. That’s not healthy, Steve. You can’t sit here with your thoughts all day. Trust me, it only makes it worse.”

Steve let out a shaky sigh and cringed when embarrassment began flooding in to replace his…insanity. He had no idea what else to call it. God, he was such a child. This was exactly why he lived alone, to stop from embarrassing himself when something made him upset. He would have been fine if Tony had just driven off instead of coming up here.

He tried to pull back, but Tony didn’t let him.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Tony murmured. “You’re staying right here with me.”

“No, Tony. I’d really like for you to leave now,” Steve whispered with a sniff. “You aren’t supposed to be in here anyway.”

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself, Steve,” Tony said quietly. “I know what you’re doing. It’s okay to break down like that, okay? It doesn’t make you weak. Trust me, you couldn’t come off that way if you tried.”

Steve felt hollow, his only feeling coming from the warmth of Tony’s body heat. “I’ll do whatever Peter wants. He doesn’t have to stay here anymore. I don’t want him to stay here if he feels like a prisoner.”

“He doesn’t feel like a prisoner,” Tony told him. “I don’t know what’s going on with that kid. Hormones, probably. But he loves it here.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Steve muttered, trying once more to pull away.

This time, Tony let him.

“I don’t want him just living with me. He’s our son, not just mine. He’s ours,” Tony said.

Steve scrubbed his eyes. “I’m not his Papa anymore,” he whispered. “He’s right, there’s nothing for him here. He needs a place like the penthouse. He needs a lab and his friends. All I do is hold him back.”

“Nope. Not true at all. This is why I’m not leaving you alone. You’ll have yourself convinced you don’t mean anything to either of us by the time Peter comes back next week.” Tony sighed. “Steve, you’re being fucking ridiculous right now. Peter needs you. If he’d only had me, he’d be in rehab by now. Quit acting like you’ve never done anything good for him.”

Steve blinked slowly, feeling a little lethargic. He wanted to lie down and sleep for the rest of his life. Again.

But maybe, just maybe, Tony had a point.

“Hey, Dad?” Peter called from outside, his voice distant. “Everything okay?”

“Ye—Peter, just—“ Tony put his head in his hands as Steve quickly stood up, arms crossed and eyes ringed red.

“Out, Tony,” Steve said sharply. “Out.”

“One second, Peter. Everything’s fine,” Tony called back before standing up himself. He was frustrated, with his hands curling into fists and then uncurling again at his sides. “Come with us, Steve. Just come stay the night at the penthouse, in a guest room, and we can figure all of this out.”

Steve knew what that meant. He shook his head and guided Tony toward the door. “You can give my lawyer a call in the morning and I’ll let her know my thoughts.”

“Dammit, Steve, you know that’s not what I’m talking abou—“

Steve gave Tony a little shove out the door and onto the porch, keeping his hands low enough that Peter wouldn’t really be able to see it.  “I’ll see you.”

“Next week,” Tony finished. “You’ll see us next week.”

“I’ll see you,” Steve repeated.

“I’m calling Bucky,” Tony said. “And Sam and everyone else. Stop making this into more than what it is. Please, Steve. Something’s obviously wrong and we want to help you.” Tony voice softened and he stepped a little closer, tentatively reaching out to touch Steve’s arm. “I think you should talk to someone. Get a dog or have Bucky move in or _something_. You can’t keep living like this all alone. It’s not good for you or Peter.”

Steve swallowed hard. “Maybe that’s why Peter shouldn’t stay here anymore,” he said in a quavering voice. “ ‘Cause it’s not good for him.”

Tony’s brow creased and he shook his head. “No, Steve. I’m worried about you, okay? I’m worried about what’s good for _you_.”

Their foreheads bumped together, but Steve barely registered it. Even after twelve years, this motion was familiar to him, his mind was just skating along a familiar track.

“Me too, Pops.”

Peter was standing below them, looking up with a fond little smile. If he was startled by Steve and Tony’s closeness, he didn’t show it.  His eyes were sad, though, and filled with guilt.

Steve reared back, the only thing stopping him from running inside and slamming the door was the fact that Peter had spoken to him. His mouth opened and he flicked his gaze from Tony to Peter, as though he’d just been caught stealing.

“You’re okay, Steve,” Tony soothed, his jaw tightening a little.

Steve put on a cracked smile. He turned his gaze to Peter first. “I’m just fine, Peter. If you want to live at your dad’s, let’s do it.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I agree that it’s what’s best for this internship and for you and your friends to be close, so let’s not make it a big deal, yeah?” He paused, but spoke again before anyone could interrupt. “This is already too much of a big deal—it’s my fault, I know. I’m just a little upset about losing you, Pete, but I’ll get over it. It’s important for you to be able to take advantage of all of these opportunities.”

He swallowed hard. “So we’ll just see each other when it works for you—“ Never. Because Peter would have to be punishing himself to come into the sad little apartment to spend time doing nothing with the man who shoved all of his ideas down Peter’s throat. “—and that’s fine. Is that fine with you?”

Peter’s eyes were glassy and Steve couldn’t understand why. “Papa, I didn’t mean to make you so sad,” Peter stammered. “I just got mad at you for a second, that’s all.”

Steve’s heart was pulp in his chest. “Oh, Peter,” he said quietly, wishing he was down a floor so he could give his son a hug. “I’m okay, Petey. Everything is okay. I just want what’s best for you, I’m not sad. I don’t want you to leave, but it’s not the same.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Tony breathed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Steve didn’t even look at him.

“Forget I said anything,” Peter tried. “I’ll stay here, it’s fine. I want to stay with you, Pops. So what if it’s twenty extra minutes? I was being whiny.”

“Peter.”

“I’m serious, Pops,” Peter said, his eyes welling up. “I don’t want you to think I don’t want to stay here anymore. Yeah, maybe I was mad at you, but you’re still my dad. I didn’t mean…You’re always going to be my dad, okay?”

Steve smiled, wishing more than ever that he could rush down there and embrace him. He had tears in his eyes too. “Okay, Pete.”

“I just don’t want you to be sad,” Peter added quietly.

“Let me hook you up with someone. Let me get you some help, Steve,” Tony murmured.

Steve looked away from Peter and his smile fell at once. “I don’t need ‘help,’ Tony,” he hissed quietly. “If you just wouldn’t have run up here to make a spectacle out of this, then everyone would be perfectly fine right now.”

“Except you,” Tony said.

Steve clenched his jaw. “Tony, I’ve been just fine for twelve years. I haven’t needed your help before ad I sure as hell don’t—“

There was the sounded of sneakers on concrete and both Steve and Tony looked over to see Peter rushing up the stairs. He paused at the top, his teenage hesitance for familial affection kicking in, but then he hugged Steve tightly.

“Dad’s right,” Peter said. “You should just try it, Pops.”

Steve kissed Peter’s hair, holding his arms securely around his son.

He wasn’t really that bad, was he? Steve couldn’t believe that both Tony and Peter felt he needed to see someone. He was so much better than where he’d been years ago, or so he’d believed. Evidently, Tony and Peter didn’t think so.

“Okay,” he finally relented. If Peter wanted him to try it, then maybe he should. “I’ll try it out.”

Peter loosed an arm and beckoned Tony over. “Dad, come on. Family hug. We’re doing it. Get over here.”

Tony gave Steve and apologetic smile before stepping in and putting his arms around Peter too. Tony didn’t close his eyes and Steve didn’t either, so they just looked at each other for a few moments from opposite sides of Peter’s head.

Steve was quick to look away once he realized he was staring and gave Peter’s head another kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“No, Pops, don’t be sorry,” Peter said, his voice muffled by Steve’s chest.

Steve blinked when there were suddenly fingers combing through his hair. It wasn’t Peter, though. Steve lifted his head to see Tony looking at him, a warm smile on his face. He scratched lightly at the nape of Steve’s neck.

Steve bit his lip and turned his face away.

Peter pulled back and Tony followed immediately, his smile fading to one much smaller.

“Dad’ll make sure you’re okay,” Peter said with a half-smile. He ducked a little closer. “And you gotta let him, okay?

Steve swallowed, licking his lips. He didn’t need Tony’s help. He didn’t want it.

“I promise not to be too much of a jerk,” Tony added, but his voice was soft and his face smirkless.

Steve shook his head. “I’ll look into it myself, Peter. I promise I—“

“You’ve been trying to do everything yourself,” Peter said, sounding far too grown up to be a sixteen year-old. “Let us do something for you.”

Us. Separate from—

“Just like both of us do things for Peter,” Tony added, his eyes knowing. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay,” Steve argued. “I’m fine. You’re both getting upset over one outburst that I already apologized for.”

Tony shook his head, and Peter’s lips quirked in a bit of a frown.

“Steve, ever since the divorce, you’ve dealt with things differently,” Tony said.

Steve clenched his jaw, shooting arrows at Tony with his eyes.

“Pops, I know you and Dad got a divorce. It’s not gonna offend me or something.”

“I know,” Steve huffed. “I just…” He trailed off, looking away.

“It wasn’t just today, Steve,” Tony said quietly. “Right now is just the right opportunity to step in and help. Let me do that. Just let me do one thing for you, Steve. One thing.”

Steve worked his jaw, mortified that Tony was talking to him like this. He wasn’t a child. He could take care of himself and always had. Tony didn’t need to help him. No, he didn’t need Tony’s help.

But Peter. Peter was looking at him pleadingly, sticking close to Tony but not in a way that was ganging up on him. Peter genuinely just wanted to help.

“Papa, please.”

Papa. The word Peter only ever used when he was in private with Steve, when he was upset or wanted to borrow some money for the movies.  He couldn’t refuse when Peter called him Papa.

Steve let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. Tony, you can call someone and I’ll talk to them. But I’m staying here tonight, I don’t want to go to the penthouse.” He just wanted to be done with today.

“And I’ll be back on Saturday,” Peter said with a smile. “But maybe we could have dinner sometime this week too?”

Steve gave a tiny smile. “That sounds great, Pete.”

Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulders. “Alright, kiddo. Get down to the car. You have homework to finish.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter looked at Steve with a grin. “See ya, Pops. Don’t forget about lunch.”

With that, Peter darted down the stairs in the wash of the yellow porch light of Steve’s apartment complex.

Steve sighed, suddenly feeling empty again. God, he needed to sleep. “There. I—“

Tony’s lips were on his, quick but slow at the same time. Warm.

He still smelled like that goddamn addicting cologne.

“That’s for scaring me,” Tony breathed when he pulled away.  He adjusted his collar and cleared his throat. “We’ll talk. I’ll send you some numbers tomorrow.”

Steve couldn’t speak.

Tony smirked. “Talk to you later, Spangles. Have a good night.”

Then Tony was whistling his way down the stairs into the inky darkness. He said something to Peter, but Steve’s hearing was strangely muffled.

It wasn’t until the car was gone and Steve brought a hand to his lips that he replied.

“Yeah, you too.”


End file.
